


We’ll Have To Call This A Wash, Love.

by slashmania



Series: 50 Thousand Words (from October to December!) [7]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur lurks unseen, Eames making jokes, I love it when Eames is calm under pressure, Kissing It Better, M/M, attempted questioning, but also a little bit because it confused him a whole bunch, but mostly because he was tricked, he really didn't like to see Eames get punched, or slapped around, still saves the day!, the mark getting really offended by Eames's forgery, trapped after messing up a job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 22:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21143993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: “Really?” Eames was saying, still conversational despite the first punch thrown. “No laughing overTo Catch a Thiefby David Dodge being the one book to fall from the shelf and alert you to my presence?”





	We’ll Have To Call This A Wash, Love.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7: Clumsy  
3674 words

“Give yourself the kick right now,” Eames called out to Arthur!

“But we almost got it! I was going to circle back and make a second attempt while you kept the projections busy. Maybe with that gigantic grenade launcher or something. I know that usually get’s _my _attention.” Arthur answered back, already running at Eames’s side, a few of their mark’s projections attempting to chase them down now across the rooftop of the building they’d successfully infiltrated.

Well, up until now.

“Yeah, but I think we’ll have to call this a wash, love! And I didn’t think you were capable of making a lewd comment! I’m so proud! ”

Arthur glared at Eames, something brief but sharp. “Shut the fuck up and just jump!”

So when they got to the edge of the roof they jumped off, giving themselves the kick they needed to wake.

* * *

“I just wanted you to know that I really am proud of you,” Eames whispered to Arthur.

Arthur was thinking of ways he could possibly punch Eames, but not have the man make a sound because they were trying to be quiet and stealthy as they hid behind stacks of books falling from the old shelf they’d once been neatly placed.

Arthur settled on glaring at Eames, then slowly shaking his head, ‘No’.

Eames pressed one hand against his chest, miming pain, a broken heart, or whatever. Arthur wouldn’t know. He was way too focused on not getting murdered up above.

“Guys,” one of the mark’s men called out, “we’ve got your fancy briefcase. We know that you aren’t going to leave it behind. Fucking dream thieves...”

That last bit was muttered, but there was enough of an echo for both Arthur and Eames to catch it.

“Yeah, there are only so many places for you two to hide out here. Besides, who chooses some rundown library to do this type of stuff?”

Eames gripped Arthur’s arm as if to hold him in place. When Arthur glanced at him in surprise, Eames shrugged in a way that suggested his explanation was wordy. Arthur imagined that Eames would go on this long and drawn out spiel about how he hadn’t been sure if Arthur would get offended by some mark’s goons criticizing the place they’d ended up dragging the mark’s unconscious body for the extraction.

Arthur rolled his eyes in response to that.

He was above that sort of shit.

“They’re around here somewhere, they’ve got to be! But when you find the fucker that was kissing me, you bring him to _me_.”

That was the mark, and he sounded quite upset. Arthur glanced at Eames and noticed how the forger had placed one hand over his mouth. Arthur raised an eyebrow over this, and then thought about what their plan had been.

Eames was going to distract the mark by taking on an alluring identity (in this case, a beautiful blonde who often started the interaction by telling a story). The goal was just to keep the mark pleasantly distracted enough that his own security wouldn’t be roused by Arthur poking around to find the secrets they were paid to steal.

It seemed that after kissing the mark Eames had to make some kind of decision. Or maybe it was at that time Arthur roused a little too much attention in his efforts to find what he wanted to find. Arthur really couldn’t know, but what the mark was _saying_ should tell Arthur what he needed to know.

Eames was found out. The sexy blonde disguise had either been pulled away, or Eames had to run, or something.

Arthur wished he hadn’t enforced silence. He wanted to tell Eames what an idiot he was, even if the forger was busy trying to not give away their position by possibly _giggling like an idiot_ as their mark bitched about having been tricked.

Arthur pressed his finger against his lips, warning Eames to continue to keep silent. Eames nodded.

Arthur then tried to quietly move from behind their bookshelf. He wanted to find a better angle to shoot from, but not sacrifice his cover.

Carefully stepping over old books, pausing and waiting for the conversation between their mark and the goons to start again so there would be some noise to cover any accidental sounds Arthur made as he tried to get closer to them, Arthur listened in.

“How did that guy trick you?” One of the goons was asking the boss.

“He changed his face,” the mark hissed. “I don’t know how he did it, but one second there was a beautiful woman in front of me, wrapping her arms around me, and kissing the daylights out of me, then a second later, _that fucker_ pulled away. He moved just far enough away when I was too shocked to say or do anything, but stopped for a moment and blew me a kiss!” The mark was so angry! “Then he winked at me and ran off!”

Arthur was no longer close enough to Eames to give him hand signals or glances. Arthur dearly wished he was close enough so Eames could see exactly how livid he was that Eames had purposefully antagonized the mark.

Now Arthur was really going to have to shoot them to give Eames a chance to get away!

* * *

Of course things started to go wrong.

As Arthur was moving from overloaded shelf, to overloaded shelf, he’d made some sort of noise in spite of all the care he was taking.

“Hey!” One of the nearby goons said as Arthur had been attempting to carefully go by unnoticed as nothing but a damned bookshelf stood between them. “I think I’ve found one of them!”

A man’s arm shoved several books from the shelf above Arthur’s head and sent several volumes tumbling down on Arthur- he scrambled out of the way, gun still in hand, silently cursing to himself over his bad luck.

Then there was another noise that came from Arthur’s starting point. Arthur froze and thought only of Eames.

“No, he’s over here,” the other goon called out.

There was a scuffle, a struggle, and from this new position Arthur could see it all happen through the widened gap on the bookshelf. Arthur saw Eames being dragged out from behind the bookshelves he’d been hiding behind.

Arthur could only watch as the mark’s men dragged Eames to the center of the room, positioning him right in front of their boss, one man holding Eames’s arms behind his back while the other waited for his boss’s next command.

But rather than cower or beg, Eames had chosen to be flippant. “Did you see the book I accidentally dropped from that shelf? Do you want to pause and appreciate the irony of the title? I think I will because I actually hadn’t planned that at all!”

Instead of appreciating the irony, the mark instead gestured to the man standing at the ready.

Arthur refused to look away as that man punched Eames’s in the stomach, knocking the breath from the forger who was kept standing by the first man’s restraining hold.

“Go get a chair,” the boss ordered the man who had punched Eames. “You’ve got the zip ties, right?”

Arthur had the best angle for now. He could see everyone; this would be the position to shoot from if he had to. They hadn’t gotten the information they needed, and even just injuring these men would mean that a second attempt to secure what their client wanted would be difficult. Arthur cringed to himself.

No, not just difficult.

Ridiculous, really, considering how this mark’s subconscious would be aware of them, and the man himself would be wary of the approaches Eames typically used for his type. Eames had left a mark, triggered some kind of response in the mark that was bleeding over into his conscious mind. 

The research hadn’t really shown anything unusual- the mark was married, mostly faithful to his wife, but also seemed to pride himself on the fact that he had only cheated on her twice, both times with younger women. Nothing to really suggest that he was closeted, self-hating, or had any other negative experiences with people whose sexual orientation differed from his own.

Eames blowing the kiss and winking was probably too much. The man could just be offended by the trick Eames had played. How could Eames have known that they would have had to hide in such a crappy location, and that at least one of them would get caught as a result of clumsiness?

Eames was forced into the chair that had been dragged over. The zip ties were used to secure Eames to the chair, the ties biting into his skin and forcing him to sit with his wrists and forearms pressed against the dusty arms of the chair, his back straight.

“Really?” Eames was saying, still conversational despite the first punch thrown. “No laughing over _To Catch a Thief_ by David Dodge being the one book to fall from the shelf and alert you to my presence?”

Eames turned his head to look at the goon waiting near his left side. “And if none of you are going to laugh over the irony, you may as well laugh that as a dream thief I’d been caught because I’m clumsy.” Eames waited politely for an answer, looked to the second goon waiting near his right side, and then finally looked at the man he’d been trying to steal something from.

“You’re not a laughing man, are you?”

The mark backhanded Eames, slapping Eames across the face hard enough for his head to snap to the side. Eames now had a cut from the mark’s heavy ring.

“No, I’m not,” the mark answered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe Eames’s blood from his hand, taking special care to clean off his ring. “Tell me who you work for.”

Eames was either attempting to show how little the situation worried him or was attempting to give Arthur time to escape.

“I’m not likely to do that. My paycheck is lost, of course, but my reputation needs to remain solid. If it got around that I’d been selling out my employers after a bit of slapping I’d _never_ be taken seriously in dreamshare again!” Eames answered honestly.

“Then tell me who scampered in here ahead of you. That man who dragged you along but left that expensive little device behind must believe you’re worth something,” the mark chuckled. “Give me his name and maybe I’ll think about chatting with him about your return.”

Eames didn’t respond to the probing questions about Arthur, and instead smiled up at the mark, the wound on his cheek still bleeding.

“I can’t give you his name. And I’ve already told you my name,” Eames said brightly, offering the man a smile while fluttering his eyelashes. “I’m Savannah, lover!”

And Eames was struck again.

It definitely forced Eames to stop being coquettish.

“This mystery man, this other dreamsharer, must still be here in this room waiting for the moment to steal you away...”

Now, Arthur had found the perfect spot to watch this train wreck, and since the mark they’d failed to extract from had his back to the relatively small empty space Arthur was looking through, and the two goons were busy paying attention to their boss to notice Arthur looking out.

But Eames had spotted him.

Maybe it was after he’d been slapped the second time. Whatever, Eames had spotted Arthur when no one else had.

They stared at each other during a short silence where Eames should have been selling Arthur out (if one went by what the mark wanted) or where Eames was going to continue to piss everyone off and give Arthur the chance to run (obviously what Eames might try to do because chivalry was dead, but logic lived on, and between the two of them Arthur had the better chance of getting out in one piece). And Eames obviously knew how much Arthur adored logic, knew that it was the way to a point man’s heart, and would use this gambit whether Arthur agreed completely or not. But Arthur wasn’t going to leave Eames behind even if it was the most logical thing in the world.

Arthur having to hide and be quiet definitely helped Eames get away with doing the gambit exactly the way he wanted.

Eames rolled his eyes and said, “Give me a break! Do you really think he’s still here?”

The goons glanced at each other, and the mark didn’t say anything immediately.

“In dreamshare it’s every man for himself. Or every woman,” Eames added, looking at each man before continuing on. “I’d personally say that there are quite a few women involved in many aspects of dreamshare. But without coming up with some ridiculous survey and figuring out how to get highly suspicious criminals to even bother to fill out said survey. Many of us have earned the right to our paranoia, so I doubt we’ll ever know the exact number.” Eames shrugged. “Or the answers could be inaccurate due to many factors you probably don’t care about, right?”

“Exactly,” the mark said dryly. “You seem pretty sure that your partner abandoned you.”

Eames shrugged a little. “Partner is a strong word. I’d say _associate_. And while we could continue this riveting talk about my associate, I’d much rather talk to you about why you’re so upset. It’s okay,” Eames said to the mark, finally addressing him by his first name. “Michael, you’re in a safe place, so feel free to share why you’re so upset that I was pretending to be the hot blonde in your dream.”

Arthur wished Eames was looking at him. He really did. Arthur really wanted to mouth the words _What in the fuck are you doing, you moron? _at Eames. But Eames was paying careful attention to the mark, Michael (childhood nickname of Mickey, went by _Raphael _and _Gabriel _for his two affairs, and according to the notes and emails, his wife often called him _honey bun_) and was trying his patience.

Arthur could see how their mark was clenching his fists in response to Eames’s question.

“You tricked me into kissing you! You were kissing me and pretending to be a woman and you _tricked me into liking it!_”

Eames’s eyes widened. “Oh dear, I don’t want to confuse you too much, and I know I said before that this is a safe place? I just don’t want you to flip out when I call you on your bullshit. I’m a forger. It’s what I do. I don’t do it maliciously, and it wasn’t like I singled you out to make you look stupid. You’re just a mark.”

If Eames could move his hands, he would have tried to do something like put his hand over his heart. Really sell the idea that it wasn’t something meant to harm the other man.

“If you liked being kissed by my hot blonde forgery it’s something you can come to terms with on your own time. Or you could forget it all together. I’m so comfortable with my sexuality that this doesn’t register as shocking in the least. I accept that my forgeries of women can be just as appealing as my forgeries of men. I do what my job requires and I’d believe that you’d at least respect the fact that I’ve got a solid work ethic, even as a dream thief.”

The mark was getting flustered, his goons were looking a little uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation, and Eames was just getting started.

“Then why did you suddenly make the blonde disappear? Why did you _wink_? Why did you _blow me a god damned kiss_?”

Even the goons seemed to want and answer. The one that had been near Eames’s left shoulder actually stepped a little bit closer to Eames, a few crucial inches in just the wrong spot. Arthur saw it, probably just like Eames wanted him to see it.

“Oh Michael, that’s an easy answer,” Eames said with a smile that was only half for show. The other half was for Arthur, who was already aiming the gun. “I’m a bastard!”

Then Eames stomped on the nearest goon’s foot, surprising the man after he’d been so still.

Arthur aimed at the second goon startled into action by Eames’s sudden movement. Arthur shot him once in the shoulder, not aiming to kill, just incapacitate.

The goon fell to the floor with a yell. The first goon tried to look for where the shot came from, but was struck by Arthur’s second bullet and was sent to the floor so he could scream over his shattered kneecap.

Arthur didn’t waste any time. He started running, just _running_ around the last bookshelf so he could stop the mark from going a step closer to the still zip tied forger.

“I’m going to give you a chance to save your pride and leave,” Arthur said clearly, enjoying the way the mark grew cautious when he heard Arthur’s voice.

“He didn’t leave,” the mark said to Eames through grit teeth. “Your partner didn’t leave.”

“Well, I did explain that I was a dream criminal. And that I’m a bastard. I’d say that it would be fair of you to take half the blame for this situation.”

The mark started to curse, and only stopped when he felt the barrel of Arthur’s gun press against his back.

“Now,” Arthur smoothly said, “you’ve given us quite a bit of trouble today. All of you have given us trouble,” Arthur narrowed his eyes at the goons still writhing in pain. “By the way, assholes, this was a decent place to set up an extraction.”

“And you are not getting off lightly for hurting my partner,” Arthur muttered, digging the barrel of his gun into his mark’s back a little harder than he should have.

“Associate,” the mark gasped as Eames nodded thoughtfully.

“He’s my best associate. And my partner in crime. He’s the best!”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile at Eames over the mark’s shoulder. “That’s right.”

Arthur first politely asked for the extra zip ties the goons brought with them, because no one brings just _two_. Arthur tied all three men up, then examined the wounded goons and promised to call them an ambulance.

Arthur holstered his gun and moved to Eames’s side. Eames began a conversation with him as the point man began working on removing his zip ties.

“It’s amazing, darling. You brought a shim with you?”

Arthur shrugged. “It never hurts to be prepared.”

“You’re my new favorite person.”

“That’s wonderful,” Arthur said as he worked. “Is there a reason why you kept trying to get me to leave you behind?”

“It’s only logical,” Eames said, quoting Spock.

Arthur spared a moment to glare at Eames, but then continued to work on the second zip tie.

“I’d promise to slap you if you next dared to recite my favorite Spock quote to strengthen your argument, but you’ve been slapped enough for today. How do you feel?”

“It’s nothing that can’t be fixed a little later. If I didn’t think it would offend Michael, I’d even suggest that you could kiss it better.”

This got Arthur to smile a little. “Maybe later. I’d rather not have an audience.”

“And I’m still not finished telling you how proud I am of you, darling.”

“I made a slightly suggestive comment. Slightly.”

“Does my gigantic grenade launcher get your attention?” Eames asked.

Arthur finally got the last zip tie undone.

“Yes. Your ridiculous grenade launcher gets my attention. Mostly I just roll my eyes over the excessiveness of it, but it would have been a perfect way to distract those projections in the dream.”

“I live for your rare praise, darling.”

“It isn’t so rare, you’ve just got to pick through the sarcasm. Now let’s get out of here!”

* * *

Arthur had called the ambulance for the men he wounded, left just enough information about the location and the likelihood of a shooting, and then hung up. He’d already secured the PASIV, double-checked the case for bugs or tracking devices, though the two goons that had come to their boss’s rescue hadn’t seemed the type to carry that on their person.

But you never knew that until it was too late. So Arthur was careful and thorough.

“Eames, please promise me that you won’t do anything that stupid again.”

“I saw an opportunity to draw their attention away from you- you were closer to the exit than I was, closer to getting away without them noticing, so when I noticed the book nearest to me on the shelf, I got an idea.”

Arthur muttered as they got into their car. “It was a bad idea. It worked out, but that could have gone wrong in so many ways...”

Eames reached out and took Arthur’s hand, offering him a reassuring touch. Arthur didn’t look at the marks left behind by the zip ties; he simply held clasped Eames’s hand just as tightly.

“Let’s not be reckless, Eames. There’s only so many people who could have been tricked by the ‘Oh look, aren’t I clumsy’ thing.”

“But did you like the joke?”

Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. It had been a ridiculous joke, but Eames had been thinking on his feet and trying to help Arthur, who he couldn’t actually communicate with at the time.

“Alright, it was funny. You know how much I love irony.”

“They just so happened to catch a thief!”

Before they drove off, Arthur thought of doing just one thing. He hadn't had a chance to clean the cut on Eames's cheek, he probably wouldn't have time till they reached their hotel.

Arthur pressed a very soft, chaste kiss against the corner of Eames's mouth.

"Cross your fingers and hope that tides you over till we reach my First Aid kit, Mr. Eames."


End file.
